


Spellbound

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 00:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14801292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: And as the world comes to an endI'll be here to hold your hand'Cause you're my King and I'm your lionheart. – Of Monsters and Men





	Spellbound

**Author's Note:**

> _I'm like stars in a mirror, waiting for you._

Before he was even born, Kim Jongin’s life was set in stone. For centuries, the Kim family have led the Kingsguard, leading men into battles and serving as ever-loyal retainers to the royal family. Equipped with strong morals, strong spirits, and near-unbeatable strength on the battlefield, the Kim family is known and respected throughout Ecrin.

From the moment he took his first breath, Jongin was raised to be one of the Crown Prince’s retainers, alongside his older brother Minseok. Intensive schooling began at the tender age of five, and physical training at the age of seven. Over the years, Jongin will learn how to fight with various weapons, how to hunt in the wild, and how to tend to wounds of all kind. He will learn how politics work, how volatile the relations between Ecrin and the other nations are, how to keep the economy striving, and the various secrets kept within their castle walls. Through it all, Jongin never complained – he wore his family crest with pride, and gave everything his all.

 

 

 

  
Crown Prince Oh Sehun was born when Jongin was just three years old. He vaguely remembers the fanfare, the excitement crackling abundantly throughout the streets of Ecrin, and the constant smiles on the Queen’s lovely face.

“That’s the Crown Prince,” his mother whispers, pointing at the slumbering infant being carried down the deep gold carpet of the throne room. “That’s your Prince, Jongin.”

He tightens his grip around his mother’s index finger, eyes transfixed on the tiny bundle swathed in a warm, crimson red, Ecrin’s royal colour. Minseok gives him a grin, and Jongin returns it, feeling the blood in his body thrum with anticipation.

A couple of years later, he becomes Sehun’s first friend. The toddler gazes up at him, eyelashes sweeping over plump cheeks whenever the young Prince blinks. Jongin’s been quite overwhelmed recently – his studies have just commenced, and he has quite a lot on his plate. Meeting the Crown Prince for the first time further adds to the rapid churning in his mind.

“Hello,” Jongin says awkwardly. Next to him, his brother clears his throat pointedly, and Jongin flushes in embarrassment. He’d practiced this for days, how could he have forgotten it? “Er, hello, Your Highness.”

The Crown Prince stares at him for another second or so, then promptly bursts into giggles as he winds small arms around Jongin’s leg.

 

 

 

  
When Sehun turns seven, he wheedles his mother for permission to attend a Kingsguard’s training session. He patters into the gym clad in a gold silk shirt with his nannies chasing after him, and stands at the edge of a mat. It takes one of the nannies calling out for the Prince for the rest of the gym to notice the boy’s presence.

Immediately, dozens of sweaty Kingsguards snap to attention, fist placed over their hearts in salute. They’re divided into age groups, and the adults are closest to Sehun. The Prince looks at them curiously, walking up to the closest Guard and placing a hand on the flat of her broadsword.

“Your Highness!” One of his nannies say, alarmed. “That’s dangerous!”

Sehun pulls his hand back with a pout, and the Guard smiles affectionately down at him. Everyone adores the little Prince – you’d be hard pressed to find someone who doesn’t.

“When you’re older, Highness, you can hold one too,” she whispers conspiratorially, and Sehun grins. When he looks over to his right, he spots a couple of familiar faces towards the farther end of the gym, and Sehun waves frantically at them.

Jongin takes an automatic step forward before he hesitates, remembering that he’s technically still in training and under the supervision of his own father. But when he glances over at the Head of the Kingsguard, he sees a rare, indulgent smile on his father’s face.

“Go on, then.”

So Jongin places his sword – real, but very blunt – back onto the rack and jogs over to the Prince. Minseok, not as close to the Prince and very aware that Jongin is Sehun’s favourite, chooses to remain where he is. He does, however, return Sehun’s wave with one of his own.

“Jonginnie,” Sehun says excitedly, “will you teach me how to fight?”

“I’m still learning too,” Jongin replies, accepting Sehun’s proffered hug. Someone nearby coos.

“Can I learn with you?”

“Sure,” Jongin says, “when you’re old enough, we’ll learn together, okay?”

 

 

 

  
Being royalty, Sehun doesn’t get many chances to experience life how the general public does. He’s homeschooled, has to partake in various political meetings (as an observer, while he’s still young), doesn’t own a single pair of jeans, and can’t even make a trip to the store down the street without three bodyguards – at least! – flanking him. Jongin knows that Sehun would love to go to school with all the other kids his age, to spend his pocket money on candy bars, to have sleepovers every weekend. But all of that are potential dangers to the Prince’s safety, so Sehun has to do without those experiences.

When Sehun turns ten, Jongin uses the pocket money he’d saved up over the span of two months to buy him a chocolate cake. He keeps it in one of the kitchen’s ginormous refrigerators as he attends a training session, and once he’s dismissed, he hurries to bring it to Sehun’s quarters.

The guards outside Sehun’s door spot the cake that Jongin’s carrying carefully in his hands, and they grace him with smiles before opening the heavy doors and announcing his presence.

“Jonginnie!”

Jongin hears Sehun’s muted footsteps running down the hallway before he sees the boy, and he lifts the cake higher just in time to prevent his Prince from barrelling straight into it.

“What’s that?” Sehun asks, eyes wide and shiny as he stares up at the box.

“A birthday cake, Highness,” Jongin says, walking over to a table and setting it down. Sehun’s nanny – well, more of a caretaker now, really – graciously exits the room in order to give the boys some privacy. “Chocolate, your favourite.”

Sehun beams at him, the joy and excitement evident in the crinkling of his eyes and the way he bounces towards the kitchen for forks. As Sehun retrieves the necessary cutlery, Jongin taps into his small cache of magic and lights the single candle with a snap of his fingers. Electricity crackles to life between his fingertips, and the sparks cling onto the candle’s wick for a heartbeat before igniting.

“Make a wish,” Jongin says, letting Sehun climb up onto a chair. “Make sure you keep it a secret, or else it won’t come true.”

Sehun nods solemnly, hands clasped together as his eyes snap shut.

Wish made, Sehun leans in and puffs at the flame until it dies in a wisp of smoke.

 

 

 

  
Jongin’s pulled out of training one day by a couple of high ranking Guards. Confused and more than a little scared, he follows them down various hallways until he finds himself looking at the door to the castle’s infirmary. The door’s slightly open, and as he steps closer, he hears a familiar sniffle.

“...Highness?”

Now worried, Jongin hurries in and spots Sehun lying on a cot, a nurse fussing over him as he cries from discomfort.

“What happened?”

“His Highness fell ill last night,” the nurse explains, placing a cool cloth over Sehun’s forehead. “His fever hasn’t broken yet, and there’s severe inflammation in his throat.”

“I don’t feel too good,” Sehun mumbles. He reaches out for Jongin, teary eyes gazing imploringly up at him.

Jongin grabs onto it immediately, leaning close to the sickly Prince as he brushes damp hair out of his face. “I’m right here,” he says. “I’ll stay here until you get better, okay?”

Sehun exhales shakily, but he tightens his grip on Jongin’s hand and nods.

True to his word, Jongin stays by Sehun’s bedside until he recovers, moving from the infirmary to Sehun’s quarters when the Prince is well enough to not require medical assistance in his recovery. They watch cartoons together, Sehun dozing off on Jongin’s shoulder as his meds kick in. Jongin feeds Sehun his meals and towel dries his hair. Sehun falls asleep to Jongin’s warm presence behind him, the two boys curled up around each other as night falls and dreams ignite.

It takes nine days for Sehun to fully recover. Jongin misses a ton of schoolwork and training during that time, but he considers it time well spent.

 

 

 

  
“Don’t call me Highness,” Sehun says one day.

They’re curled up on his couch, Sehun’s head pillowed on Jongin’s lap, as a movie plays on the television. The Prince is starting to doze off, and Jongin’s torn between actually watching the movie or watching over the boy on his lap.

“What?”

“Call me by my name,” Sehun repeats. “I never hear you say my name.”

“Are you sure? I don’t think it’s –”

“I don’t care about rules,” Sehun says. He curls fingers into the soft fabric of Jongin’s sweatpants.

Jongin swallows. It’s a simple request, but no one gets to call royalty by their names unless they’re family. But he’s never been able to say no to the Prince.

“Okay, Sehun.”

Sehun grins and closes his eyes.

 

 

 

  
He’s the only person Sehun allows to hold him when the Queen passes away from illness.

The Prince is stoic throughout the funeral procession, clutching his mother’s sceptre in a vice grip. Jongin stands by his side, silent, allowing Sehun to seek comfort in his presence should he want to.

Sehun only turns to him hours after the funeral, when they’re back in Sehun’s room, blanket pulled tight around his small shoulders. Jongin holds him then, caressing his hair and murmuring sweet nothings into the air as Sehun cries. Wetness seeps through the cotton of his shirt, and Jongin makes a promise to himself that he will always stay strong for his Prince.

 

 

 

  
Sehun starts magic training when he turns fifteen. As Prince, he has unlimited access to the magic flowing throughout Ecrin’s royal bloodline. The Ecrins wield electricity, and skills can range from electrokinesis to quintessence force. The other four nations – Aerilon, Violl, Hellonde, and Yerrin – wield air, water, fire, and earth respectively.

After his father had exposed him to magic early on in his childhood, magic has always felt like an extension of himself. Sehun would use it for little things, such as turning the lights on and off and recharging a dead cell phone in seconds. But as he grows into an adult, further work on his magical prowess is necessary. He needs to be able to defend himself when faced with danger and engage in combat when the situation calls for it.

Of all the responsibilities placed on his shoulders as a result of his birthright, Sehun enjoys practising magic the most. It’s exhausting, certainly, and Sehun has quickly gotten used to collapsing bonelessly on the ground at the end of his sessions, but it gives him a sense of purpose. The jolt of gratification that floods throughout his charged veins whenever he learns a new skill or manages to hold off the inevitable wave of fatigue for a few extra minutes is simply addictive.

He trains hard, every single day, until he’s unable to conjure even the smallest of sparks. He refuses to stop until he hits that point.

“You push yourself too hard, Highness,” Minseok says, sheathing his sword as he walks over to where Sehun’s puddled on the ground. Sehun and his two Kingsguards have started training together too, in preparation for the binding ceremony that’s to take place when Sehun turns eighteen. While Sehun prefers to utilise magic for battle, knowing how to fight with weapons is a skill he should definitely hone for when his magic is depleted.

“So does your brother,” Sehun replies, rolling his head around to face the other side. Sure enough, Jongin’s still locked in combat with his father, both men grunting as their swords clash over and over again.

“No wonder the two of you are best friends,” Minseok laughs, extending a hand for Sehun to grab onto.

Sehun grins and allows Minseok to pull his tired body up off the mat and lug him over to a bench. They sit together, chests heaving, as they watch Jongin spar. The young Kingsguard manages to hold his ground for a long time, but he ultimately yields to his father when the tip of a blade comes to rest against the hollow of his throat.

Jongin lowers his sword, conceding defeat.

When Jongin peels his sweaty shirt off his back, Sehun allows his gaze to roam over the muscles rippling subtly beneath skin. The now-familiar heat settles into the pit of his belly, and he doesn’t take his gaze off of Jongin for a long while.

 

 

 

  
“Will you, Sir Kim Jongin, member of the Kingsguard, abide by your sworn duty to protect and serve the Crown Prince no matter the circumstance?”

“I will, Your Majesty.”

The plush carpet is soft against his knee, and the fabric of his uniform is crisp and smooth underneath his fist, where it lies loyally over his heart. At the sound of footsteps, Jongin looks up and fights down the affectionate smile that threatens to spread across his face at the sight of the Crown Prince – his charge, his liege, _his Prince_ – walking down the stairs. Sehun’s dressed in his royal suit, crimson red pairing beautifully with the white dress shirt underneath. His cloak billows out behind him as he walks, golden eyes bright and clear as they hold onto Jongin’s gaze. Usually unruly hair is slicked back, exposing sharp cheekbones and the thin scar right by his left eyebrow, and Jongin finds himself ruminating on the man’s beauty. He swears Sehun gives him a little wink.

When he’s a few feet away from Jongin, Sehun extends his right hand out to the side, and bolts of electricity start forming out of thin air before gradually coming together and solidifying into a sword in the Prince’s grip. Magic swirls around the blade, and Jongin can feel it thrumming in the air.

“Rise.”

Jongin gets to his feet, hand falling from his chest to rest by his side. Next to him stands Minseok, his binding ritual already complete.

“Ready?”

This time, Jongin lets the smile show. “Of course, Highness.”

Sehun spins the sword around in his grip, the tip coming to press against Jongin’s heart. Then, with a swift, murmured incantation, he thrusts the weapon straight through Jongin’s chest where it dissolves instantly inside him. For a few moments, Jongin is left breathless, every nerve in his body alight with heat.

It subsides suddenly, like a wave being pulled back out to sea, and he opens his eyes to see Sehun still standing there, a palm pressed against where the blade had passed through him.

“Do you feel it?” Sehun whispers.

Jongin unsheathes his sword and reaches down deep inside of himself to where the magic lies. He pulls on it – gently at first, but with gradually increasing strength as it becomes evident to him that he can use _more_. Magic floods his veins, and sparks shoot out of his fingertips. Jongin glances down to see his sword imbued with electricity.

“Yes, Sehun.” He keeps his voice low as well. This part of the conversation is private.

Sehun smiles. “I feel it too.”

After, Jongin and Minseok take their rightful places behind Sehun as the Prince addresses the public. He delivers his coming-of-age speech; a speech that Jongin knows by heart, thanks to the number of times Sehun practices it around him. The sun shines down on them, warm and calming, and Jongin watches with fondness tugging at his heartstrings as his Prince speaks with poise.

“Did I do good?” Sehun asks him after, suit jacket draped across his forearm as they head back towards his quarters.

“Excellently, Sehun.”

Sehun laughs, the sound so pure and so lovely that Jongin wishes he could bottle it up and carry it around with him.

 

 

 

  
Realizing that he’s in love with the Prince did not come as a surprise. To Jongin, it makes perfect sense. They had grown up together, extending hands of friendship towards each other while they were still young and innocent. They’ve spent so much time in each other’s presence, Jongin’s devotion to Sehun and Sehun’s trust in his Guard growing with each passing year. Jongin’s been there for almost every milestone in Sehun’s life – from the loss of his first tooth to his first growth spurt, and Sehun has always wanted Jongin to be a part of them.

Sehun’s grown into a fine young man, something that Jongin can attest to firsthand. His once-skinny frame is now filled out with muscle, his facial features and jawline have sharpened over time, and his height has skyrocketed so fast that he’s even taller than Jongin now. He’s beautiful, and undeniably fit to be a prince.

Jongin takes his duty very seriously, always willing to throw himself into harm’s way just to protect the Prince. They’d taken a trip out into the city when Sehun was fifteen, and Jongin had moved in the nick of time to prevent a thrown dagger from lodging itself in Sehun’s chest. The blade sunk into his arm instead. Later that night, Jongin had spent hours whispering assurances into Sehun’s hair as the Prince dealt with his guilt over Jongin’s injury. They fell asleep like that, Sehun’s head pillowed on Jongin’s chest. Till this day, the scar stands proudly against his skin.

He was there for Sehun’s first crush, the daughter of one of the King’s advisors. At seventeen, still too young to know how to deal with the influx of emotions, Sehun had bombarded Jongin with questions, ones that Jongin answered with utmost patience. Ultimately, Sehun’s crush fizzled out, and Jongin was left to deal with his own feelings of relief.

Jongin knows almost everything there is to know about the Prince. His favourite meal – from appetizers all the way to dessert –, his favourite pair of tattered sweatpants that is the only thing he’ll wear when he feels down, the way he sleeps – always curled up on his left until he falls asleep, before turning over onto his back for the remainder of the night –, and the way his temper cracks _just so_ whenever stress starts piling up on his shoulders.

For Jongin, it has always been Sehun.

It has always been Sehun, albeit in different ways over different points of his life. There is no particular moment in time where Jongin could pinpoint the development of his love. His feelings towards Sehun have never been a fleeting infatuation, nor a sudden surge of teenage lust. Instead, his love for his Prince evolved as naturally as their relationship did, and it’s something that Jongin has always viewed as a part of himself.

It started when he met Sehun for the first time at the age of five, and the rest was history. Somewhere along the lines of his desire to live up to his family’s name, he fell in love. It’s the kind of love that is woven so intricately into Jongin’s heart and soul that there’s no possible way Jongin can deny its presence. To him, nothing matters but serving Sehun, protecting Sehun, and loving Sehun. To him, Sehun is everything, and he will remain everything.

 

 

 

  
Jongin has always prided himself on his knowledge and capabilities. Which explains his shock when Sehun’s words on a balmy Sunday absolutely blindsided him.

They’re in Sehun’s quarters, Jongin rifling through a bunch of documents awaiting Sehun’s signature while the Prince himself doodles absently in a notebook. He’s supposed to be studying for his finals – yes, even royalty are subjected to tests –, but he hasn’t been able to focus for the past thirty minutes.

“Sehun,” Jongin begins, not glancing up from his work. “Pardon my curiosity, but what is it that’s been bothering you?”

He can feel Sehun’s eyes on him, searching, and the scratching of Sehun’s pen stops.

“Jongin,” Sehun says. At the tension in his voice, Jongin finally looks up. “What’s the deal with political marriages?”

Jongin blinks. He would never have guessed that this was what has been bothering the Prince.

“Well, the purpose of political marriages have always been to –”

Sehun interrupts with a noise from the back of his throat. His pen falls from his grip. “Not what I meant.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite know what you mean.”

The furrow between Sehun’s brows deepen. “Will I have to have one too?”

It takes Jongin mere seconds to remember that Sehun’s twentieth birthday is just a few days away. In another year, Sehun will have to start meeting with various royal families in order to discuss marriage.

“Yes, Sehun, I’m afraid you will.” Sehun has never appreciated it when Jongin attempted to cushion blows, and Jongin knows that this time is no different.

“I don’t want to,” Sehun snaps, turning to glare out the window.

For once, Jongin doesn’t quite know what to say. Not just because it’s a topic he’s not prepared to address, but also because the thought of imagining Sehun with someone else – for the rest of his life – hurts a little too much to bear.

“I don’t want to be forced to marry someone I don’t love,” Sehun continues, the anger quickly giving way to hopelessness.

“You may learn to love your betrothed,” Jongin says quietly. “In time.”

“I won’t,” Sehun replies, sounding so sure of himself that Jongin’s heart skips a beat.

“Sehun…?”

“I love someone else,” Sehun mumbles, “but nothing will come of it.”

Words are stuck in Jongin’s throat, and he doesn’t know how to dig them out. Sehun turns to look at him, and Jongin’s heart aches at the smile on the Prince’s face, one that doesn’t reach his eyes.

 

 

 

  
Sehun’s twentieth is a quiet affair. He chooses to spend it like any other day, going to a couple of meetings with his father, practising magic, and mulling over his study notes. As per tradition, Jongin buys him a birthday cake, and Sehun gives him a small smile in thanks before consuming a small piece. The rest is stored away in the refrigerator.

When Jongin passes his gift over to the Prince – a figurine of Sehun’s favourite character from his favourite game that he’s wanted for ages – he’s a little unnerved at the lack of response. Sehun cradles it tenderly with gentle fingers but sets it aside on a shelf after a few moments. He thanks Jongin, of course, but that’s it. Sehun’s always been very animated and exuberant, so this raises a huge red flag in Jongin’s mind.

“Are you… still thinking about the arranged marriage?” Jongin dares to ask. They’re out on Sehun’s balcony, the night breeze whispering through their hair.

Sehun startles, lips parting in surprise before he composes himself.

“Yeah,” he says, turning back to look up at the stars.

“Can I help?”

Sehun exhales. “I don’t think so.”

After that day, Sehun stops spending as much time with Jongin. It doesn’t take long for Jongin to notice – after all, he’s always been the one summoned for Sehun’s daily leisurely walk around the castle grounds. Requests for Jongin to join him slowly dwindle over the span of a few weeks, and he senses that things will continue to go downhill. He’s not too surprised when one day, Minseok’s phone trills instead of his.

“Did something happen?” Minseok demands, gaze flicking between Jongin’s face and the screen of his phone. “The hell did you do?”

Jongin’s throat tightens, and he lifts a single shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “I didn’t do anything. At least, I don’t think I did.”

They don’t have time to talk about it – Minseok can’t keep the Prince waiting. Jongin watches as his brother leaves to join the Prince, feeling like something’s been ripped away from him. Above, a few light bulbs blow, sparks of electricity showering down on his bowed head. Sunlight seeping through half-drawn curtains becomes the only thing that illuminates the room.

 

 

 

  
Minseok keeps a respectable distance away from Sehun as they walk. While he might not know the Prince as well as his brother does, he can tell from the tense set of Sehun’s shoulders and the tightness of his jaw that there’s definitely something bothering the man.

After almost half an hour of tense silence, Minseok finally decides to act. With a pointed clear of his throat, he takes a few steps towards Sehun and opens his mouth. “Highness, what’s on your mind?”

Sehun turns to look at him over his shoulder, eyes dark with uncertainty and eyebrows drawn together in thought.

“I don’t –” He pauses, sighs, and runs a frustrated hand through his carefully styled hair. “How do you tell someone something that could potentially ruin your relationship with said person?”

“I guess that would depend on how reasonable the person is.”

“Quite,” Sehun replies. “Level-headed. Composed, caring, nurturing. Devoted.”

“... Seems like quite the person, Highness. I would presume that the conversation would go well.”

Sehun drops down onto a bench and leans forward, elbows propped up on his knees as he lets his head hang.

“It would seem that way, huh?”

Minseok doesn’t quite know how to proceed from there, but it doesn’t seem as though Sehun requires more advice.

 

 

 

 

  
Minseok returns to find Jongin beating a training dummy to shreds. The man’s got an unreadable look on his face as he lands blow after blow on the dummy, muscles in his entire body wrung up tight and yearning for release.

“Hey,” Minseok says, leaning against the wall. Jongin doesn’t seem to hear him, leaping into the air for a roundhouse kick to the face. Minseok clears his throat and tries again.

This time, Jongin stops just mere milliseconds away from sinking his fist into the dummy’s gut. “Oh,” he says, thumbing at a drop of sweat threatening to fall into his eye. “You’re back.”

“You okay there?”

“Me?” Jongin blinks. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Well, if that dummy was alive, it would be dead right now.”

Jongin shrugs, stepping forward to grab a towel off the rack. “Luckily for it, it isn’t.” He pats himself off, slinging the towel across his bare shoulders when he’s done. Minseok can tell that his brother is itching to ask one particular question, but Jongin seems to be keeping his mouth shut.

“Aren’t you curious?”

Jongin frowns. “About what?”

“The Prince. What’s bothering him.”

Minseok’s suddenly looking at Jongin’s back instead of his face. He sees broad shoulders shrug, and then: “Sehun told you what was bothering him?” Goodness. Minseok rolls his eyes at the blatant disappointment rolling off of Jongin’s frame.

“Not exactly. He was quite vague about it. But I’m quite positive you’ll be able to get it out of him if you tried.”

“I’ve tried,” Jongin says curtly. “He always brushes me off. You’ve probably gotten more information about it in the past hour or so than I have since his birthday.”

“Then try harder,” Minseok snorts. “If he’s not telling you, then it’s definitely about you.”

“But I didn’t do –”

“Don’t be daft,” Minseok interrupts, leaning forward to pinch Jongin’s side. “It doesn’t mean you did anything.”

“What?”

Minseok rolls his eyes again and walks out of the room, leaving a rather confused Jongin in his wake.

 

 

 

  
The knock seems to reverberate throughout the hallway. Jongin flinches at the volume of it.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me,” Jongin replies. He presses questing fingers against the surface of the door, as if doing so will magically convince Sehun to open up to him.

Sehun does open the door, and Jongin figures that it’s one step in the right direction. But he doesn’t move aside to let Jongin in.

“Did we have a meeting planned?” Sehun asks, looking a little confused. The simple question breaks Jongin’s heart – he never needed a reason to come over in the past.

“No,” he replies, then after a second thought, “Highness.”

Something in Sehun’s eyes shutters off at the formality.

“But I think we should talk.”

At that, Sehun reluctantly steps aside and gestures for Jongin to enter. Jongin doesn’t go far, positioning himself close to the door in order to give Sehun some space. The Prince himself curls into an armchair, pointedly looking at a spot on the wall several inches to the left of Jongin’s face.

“You’ve been avoiding me these past few weeks,” Jongin says softly. “Did I do something to upset you?”

Sehun flinches. Jongin can see the guilt flooding into his eyes – he’s always been able to read Sehun like a book. They grew up together, after all.

“You didn’t,” Sehun mumbles, turning to look out of the window. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jongin says, not caring about the fact that he sounds quite desperate for answers, “but I can’t think of any other reason as to why you would –”

A frustrated noise escapes Sehun’s throat, and Jongin’s words promptly dissolve on his tongue. Sehun’s eyes are on him now, and the anguish in them causing Jongin to take an instinctive step forward.

“Highness, _please_ , just tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s bothering you, and it’s my duty to know —”

“Is that all I am to you? A duty?”

Jongin stares. “What? Of course not! I have a job as your retainer, and I am expected to serve you, but you are so much more to me than —”

“What am I to you, then?”

 _Everything_ , Jongin wants to say. Instead, what comes out is, “You’re my best friend.”

Sehun looks at him oddly, keeping his face carefully blank. “I love you, Jongin. I’m _in love_ with you. I think I’ve always loved you, for as long as I can remember.”

The pure elation Jongin feels coursing through his body at those words is quickly dampened by the realisation that he can’t, and can never, act on his own feelings.

“Sehun,” he begins, heart aching. “I don’t think —”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Sehun sighs. “That’s why it’s taken me this long to tell you. I know you’re going to tell me that I can’t love you, that doing so is inappropriate, given our relationship as Prince and retainer. You’re going to tell me that you don’t feel the same way, that you see me as a brother. You’re going to remind me that in less than a year’s time, I’ll be expected to marry someone and produce an heir.”

He pauses to take a breath, misery evident in the way he pulls his knees in towards his chest, white-knuckled grip around his shins.

“You’re right,” Jongin says, stepping forward to kneel by the armchair. He sees the resignation in Sehun’s eyes, and he reaches out to touch a socked foot. “About most of that.”

Sehun stays silent.

“It is inappropriate,” Jongin says. “I would likely be removed from my position if the Council gets wind of this. And yes, you are expected to marry once a suitable bride is found for you. You are the only son, after all, and the royal line must continue.”

Inching closer, Jongin closes his hand around one of Sehun’s. “But I’m not going to tell you that I don’t feel the same way.”

Sehun’s eyes widen almost comically, and he sits up so fast that Jongin’s surprised he didn’t pull a muscle.

“What?”

“Listen to me,” Jongin says, firm yet gentle. “I love you too, Sehun, so much. God, you don’t even know. But we can’t.”

“... Why the hell not?”

“Because I would rather stay by your side as your retainer for the rest of my life than to potentially lose you forever.”

He stands, leans over his Prince, and presses his lips to Sehun’s forehead. “I’m so sorry.” His voice cracks on the last syllable, but he forced himself to stand and turn away. The longer he stays, the weaker his will.

“Wait!” Sehun cries, sounding so broken that despite telling himself not to, Jongin stops. “Please, all I’ve ever wanted was you. Can’t we figure out a way to work this out?”

Jongin regrets it the second he turns around to look at Sehun. The Prince is halfway out of his seat, arm outstretched, and every nerve in Jongin’s body is screaming at him to step into Sehun’s grasp. So he does.

He pulls Sehun upright and into his embrace, hands flying up to cup a sharp jaw. Leaning in, he presses their foreheads together. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers again, and Sehun closes his eyes when he feels the puffs of air landing on his lips.

“All I want,” Sehun mumbles, fingers gripping onto the back of Jongin’s shirt.

“I know.”

Heart pounding, Jongin leans in that extra few centimetres to press their lips together. Sehun whimpers into the kiss, and Jongin can feel wetness landing on the pads of his thumbs.

“Don’t cry,” Jongin pleads, swiping at the tears. “It kills me to see you cry.”

Sehun steals another kiss. Jongin lets him take as many as he wants.

“We can’t,” he says after a few minutes of relishing in the feeling of Sehun’s lips against his. “We can’t.” He says it as if it’s a mantra.

He pulls away, ignoring the pleas of his heart, and thumbs at Sehun’s kiss-pink lips.

“I love you. I’ll always be by your side, okay? You’ll always have me.”

“But not the way I want you,” Sehun mumbles.

Jongin presses another apology into Sehun’s hair and lets go. He turns and walks away, barely managing to refrain from looking back at his Prince. Sehun doesn’t call out to him again.

 

 

 

  
Jongin should’ve seen it coming. He knows Sehun, _knows_ that the Prince hates backing down, that he recognises bullshit when he sees it, that he’s willing to do a lot if it means getting what he wants. So, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when Sehun barges into his room a few days later, hair still damp from his shower and fire burning in his eyes.

“I know you think you’re doing what’s best for us, but I need you to hear me out, alright?”

He waits until a dumbfounded Jongin nods in understanding before continuing.

“If I wasn’t a Prince, and you weren’t my retainer, what would you have said when I told you I loved you?”

“I’d have done everything to be with you.”

“Right. And to you, am I a Prince or am I someone you love?”

“Both,” Jongin says automatically.

“Pick one,” Sehun demands.

Jongin has half a mind to lie, but he’s never been able to lie to Sehun.

“Someone I love.”

“Then be with me,” Sehun says, and Jongin _wants_. “We can work the rest out later. Isn’t looking after my well-being one of the tasks entrusted to you?”

“That’s not fair,” Jongin sighs tiredly. He runs a hand down his face and places the mug he’d been holding onto the counter.

“Life’s not fucking fair, Jongin,” Sehun snaps. At that, Jongin glances at the Prince, stunned. He’s never heard him swear before. “Why are you so willing to risk your life for me out on battlefields, but so unwilling to do this?”

“Because I grew up knowing what was expected of me when it came to your care. I grew up with your best interests in heart and mind. And despite what you’re saying, dating your retainer is _not_ what’s best for you. There has never been a case of same-sex relations in the royal family; I have _nothing_ to refer back to, nothing to help me figure out what the repercussions might be. I know you didn’t ask to be a Prince, Sehun, but you are, and that’s the reality of it. I didn’t ask to fall in love with you, nor to have the sheer amount of responsibilities that I have. Yet here I am, wanting to agree to your frankly, quite _reckless_ , suggestion of being with you.”

Jongin sucks in a ragged breath. Across the room, Sehun looks as though all the fight has left him.

“I need you to realise what you’re asking from the both of us,” Jongin continues quietly. He stares down at the carpet between his toes. “What it could mean for your future rule, how it could affect politics, how your family itself would react. And please, consider how it would affect my life, too. I’m your retainer, Sehun, and it is my duty to stand by you. I will do that as your retainer and as your friend. Sleep on it, and if you still choose to pursue a relationship with me, I will accept.”

His words are met with silence, and Jongin looks up to see Sehun on the floor, back pressed against the wall and with his head in his hands.

“Alright,” Sehun agrees, voice thick. “I understand. I’ll think things over again. I overstepped some boundaries, and for that I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Jongin crosses the room and joins Sehun on the ground. He presses their shoulders together and slips his fingers between Sehun’s. A smile graces his lips when Sehun gives his hand a squeeze.

“I know that it isn’t easy being in your position. Your life is mapped out in such a specific way; it must feel horribly stifling. You’re unable to experience so many things that others your age are privy to, and although I would love to be able to provide you with all of those, I’m afraid I can’t.”

Sehun absently strokes the back of Jongin’s hand with his thumb. “I don’t care for all of that,” he says. “I understand my role, and I’ve accepted it a long time ago. Sure, it would be nice having friends out of the castle, but I’m perfectly content with the ones I have here. It’s just… you were something I’ve wanted for so long and always seemed to be unattainable. I was, and still am, willing to do anything to have you.”

“But you will always —”

“It’s not the same,” Sehun says shortly. “I know you understand what I’m saying. Don’t try and placate me, Jongin, you know me better than that.”

Silence befalls them. As evening fades into night, they remain on the ground with their fingers laced, staring out of the window at the waning moon.

 

 

 

  
Sweat rolls down the space between his scapulae, causing the thin fabric of his shirt to adhere to Jongin’s skin. His muscles are screaming for a break, arms trembling after almost two hours of sparring with Minseok. Each clash of their weapons sends tremors throughout his body, but Jongin doesn’t want to stop. Training, although physically exhausting, helps clear his mind of everything else. It’s a brief respite from many things, and he welcomes it.

It helps that he’s evenly matched with his brother — he fights better with swords, while Minseok fights better with daggers and spears. Recently, he’s been asking Minseok to hang back after Kingsguard training to spar with him, and it’s helped take the edge off.

“Mind if we stop soon?” Minseok asks, grimacing as he stretches his fingers around the hilt of a dagger. “I’m uh, running out of gas here.”

“Oh.” Jongin takes a few steps back and lowers his weapon. “Right. Sure.”

Minseok scrutinises his brother, daggers in one hand as he runs a towel over his face and neck with the other. “I presume you’ve spoken to the Prince?”

Something in Jongin’s face tightens. “Yeah, I did.”

“Do I dare ask how that went?”

“It’s complicated,” Jongin sighs. He glances around, then gestures for Minseok to follow him to a more private corner.

“He wants to start a relationship,” Jongin says. “With me.”

For some reason, Minseok doesn’t look surprised. “Uh huh. And what did you say?”

Jongin frowns at his brother. “What do you mean what did I say? It’s inappropriate, given our statuses.” He slumps down onto the mat and rucks up the hem of his shirt to wipe at the sweat on his forehead. “But you know how stubborn he is. We had a few… heated discussions over it. I told him to really think it through.”

“Do you love him?”

“That’s,” Jongin flushes. “Irrelevant.”

Minseok rolls his eyes. “That’s extremely relevant, you absolute ponce.”

“Irrelevant,” Jongin says firmly. “In a year’s time, he’ll be betrothed to a princess of another nation. What the both of us want shouldn’t matter, not when so many things are at stake.”

“Better to love and have lost than to never have loved before,” Minseok quotes. He shrugs. “Talk to the King. He’s a reasonable man. Maybe he’ll allow it.”

“How… Why are you so nonchalant about this?”

“I’m not. I just think that we’ve given so much to the Crown and the nation – something we will continue to do so – that we deserve something in return. We should all be selfish. Occasionally.”

Minseok claps him on the shoulder and turns around. “I’m heading home now. See you later.”

 

 

 

  
They’re on their way to a council meeting when Jongin grabs Sehun’s elbow and pulls him aside into a quiet hallway.

“Have you given the issue any thought?”

Sehun looks at him like he’s grown a third head. “Of course I have. Everyday for the past couple of weeks.”

“And?”

“You seriously want to talk about this now?”

Jongin scratches at a random spot on his head.

“Thought so,” Sehun snorts.

Too distracted by Sehun’s presence next to him, Jongin barely manages to focus throughout the entirety of the council meeting. He leaves a 90 minute meeting with barely half a page of notes.

“You’re lucky I took notes,” Minseok mutters as he passes by him. Jongin forces himself to refrain from punching his brother in the arm.

He’s one foot out of the door when Sehun calls his name.

“Yes, Highness?” He’s hyper-aware of the fact that the King is still in the room, seated at the head of the table. Sehun simply jerks his thumb at his father. The King gives him a disapproving look that Sehun grins at.

“It was brought to my attention that we have something to discuss,” the King says, steepling his fingers.

“Sir?” Jongin croaks.

“My son has informed me of your desire to court him.”

Jongin stares. “Court –” Sehun clears his throat loudly. “Right. Court.”

“I must say, I didn’t expect this to take so long.” The King’s eyes twinkle.

Jongin stares even harder.

“I may be a very busy man, but I assure you I am quite observant when it comes to matters regarding my children.”

“I don’t doubt that, Sir.”

The amusement on the King’s face fades away to seriousness.

“Sehun, please take a seat as well.”

When Sehun does as he’s told, the King leans forward and sighs.

“While I do want the two of you to be happy, there are many things that are at stake. What I’m about to tell you has not been revealed to the Council yet – it will be, soon, but not yet. Ecrin will be signing a treaty with Violl in approximately six months. This treaty gives us access to their military, and them access to ours. It’s a treaty that we want to see succeed – it’s mutually beneficial, what with their trade connections and our technology. Not to mention the relationship between water and electricity. To sign the treaty, however, a betrothal is required.”

Sehun grips the edge of the table. Jongin watches as his knuckles pale.

“You will be marrying the eldest daughter; the Crown Princess of Violl. I’m sorry, son, but as monarchs, we have a duty to act in the best interests of our nation. Even at the expense of our own wishes and happiness. She’s a lovely girl; I’m sure you’ll –”

“ _No_ ,” Sehun hisses, angry tears flooding his eyes. “I came to you because I thought the fact that we’re family would mean something –”

The King holds up his hand.

“Under no circumstance will I tolerate impertinence. Let me finish. The betrothal is not negotiable. I’m telling you this now so that you have time to wrap your mind around it. And by doing so, I’m giving you the time between now and your wedding to date your retainer.”

Sehun’s jaw clenches.

“You will have to be discreet, of course, and the relationship will be kept secret. It shouldn’t be too hard, considering the fact that you’re constantly together.”

Leaning back, the King studies the pair of them.

“May I speak,” Sehun finally says, tone frosty. The King nods.

“The relationship I seek with Jongin is not a temporary one. It’s not meant to be a... a _consolation prize_.” He stands, his chair wobbling as it skids back on a carpeted surface. “Goodnight, Father.”

Sehun spins on his heel and exits the room, leaving Jongin to his own devices. He bows hastily, bids his own goodbyes, and dashes out in search of the Prince.

He finds Sehun seated on the bottom stair, hair mussed from the number of times he’d run his fingers through it.

“Hey.” He sits down next to Sehun, mindful to give him a little space just in case he wants it.

“That’s it then, huh?” Sehun says hollowly. “We don’t even get a say in this. I really thought that by going to my dad…” He sighs.

“I’m sorry. I know this wasn’t how you wanted things to turn out.”

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” Sehun slumps against the bannister, shoulders hunching in as though it’ll help shield him from the harsh realities of his life. “I know that if I do pursue a relationship with you, having it taken away from me would hurt more than not pursuing one to begin with. And yet…”

“Yeah,” Jongin murmurs, reaching out to thumb at Sehun’s cheek. “I know. Me too.”

Sehun immediately leans into the touch and Jongin presses a chaste kiss to Sehun’s temple.

“Be with me anyway,” Sehun says, so softly that Jongin nearly misses it. He looks over at his Prince, heart aching at the defeatist look on his face – almost as if he expects Jongin to say no.

“Okay,” he says. Sehun raises his head to look at him, equally stunned and joyous. Jongin can’t help but smile. “I’ve heard that Violl’s Princess is quite a reasonable woman. Who knows, we might be able to convince her to work something out if we still wish to pursue a relationship by the time your wedding comes around.”

Jongin barely has time to brace himself before Sehun launches forward to wrap his arms around Jongin’s neck. His hip collides with a step, but he’s willing to sport a horrible bruise for a whole month if it means Sehun will be happy.

Sehun laughs then, a soft, shaky exhale against his neck. “You always have a plan, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Jongin whispers. He closes his eyes. “I’ll figure something out, I promise.”

 

 

 

  
They’re at a charity event, Sehun mingling amongst the crowd of nobles as Jongin and Minseok follow at a close distance. These events don’t grab Jongin’s attention whatsoever, but he does appreciate having the time to admire how good the Prince looks. Tonight, Sehun’s dressed top to toe in black, his silk shirt tucked loosely into a pair of leather pants. The royal circlet rests elegantly on a head of subtly tousled hair, and his makeup highlights his cheekbones and the depth of his eyes.

The brothers themselves are in their formal Kingsguard outfits, gold buttons forming a glimmering line up the front of their jackets and black capes attached to shoulders. Jongin’s sword rests familiarly on his hip, and Minseok has a lance strapped to his back.

Sehun’s got a flute of champagne in his hand – probably his third for the night – and a nice flush is rising high on his cheeks. Jongin thinks it makes him look lovely.

“Please wipe that lovestruck look off your face,” Minseok mutters out of the corner of his mouth. “It’s unprofessional.”

Jongin huffs. “Shut up.”

“Aren’t you supposed to keep your relationship hidden? You’re not doing a good job at it.”

Sehun turns around to look curiously at them. “What are you two whispering about?”

“Nothing,” Jongin says automatically, at the same time Minseok goes, “Highness, I’m afraid my brother isn’t very good at keeping his affection for you hidden.”

Jongin grinds the heel of his boot onto Minseok’s toes. In the end, however, he’s willing to let Minseok call him out whenever he wants, because the resulting smile on Sehun’s face is absolutely breathtaking.

“Apparently,” Minseok quips, “neither can you, Highness.”

Laughing, Sehun takes another sip from his glass and returns to his royal duties, easily slipping into conversation with a young Lord.

“I know I said to be selfish,” Minseok says quietly, “but don’t forget to protect yourself, too.”

Jongin simply nods in response.

 

 

 

  
The moon is high in the sky when Sehun pulls Jongin out onto one of the venue’s many balconies, tucking their bodies into the shadows as he slots their lips together.

“Sehun,” Jongin mumbles, fingers slipping into the prince’s belt loops to tug him closer. Despite his chastising tone, he returns the kisses just as enthusiastically. “We’re in public and you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

“I’m not drunk, Jongin. And no one comes up here,” Sehun replies breathlessly, licking into the heat of Jongin’s mouth. “Besides, Minseok’s guarding the area.”

Oh god, his brother knows they’re out here fooling around? Jongin’s never going to hear the end of it. Yet, it’s hard to think about the consequences when Sehun’s lips are soft and pliant against his, so Jongin buries his fingers into the hairs at the base of Sehun’s head and kisses the Prince a little harder.

It’s warm, and the taste of expensive champagne that lingers on Sehun’s tongue sends sparks of pleasure shooting up Jongin’s spine. Sehun’s legs settle on either side of Jongin’s thigh, hands splayed across the small of his back as their lips move languidly together.

Warning bells only start to ring when Sehun begins grinding lazily down on Jongin’s thigh.

“Not here,” Jongin murmurs.

“I know,” Sehun says. He nips at Jongin’s bottom lip. “Later?”

A part of Jongin wants to say no, because once they go through with this, it can’t be taken back. For the past few weeks, they’ve done nothing past heavy petting, and it’s always been Jongin who put the brakes on things progressing further. But Sehun’s looking at him with such desire and hope, and _fuck_ , Jongin can _never_ say no to him.

“Later,” he promises, ducking his head to press a kiss on Sehun’s pulse point. Above him, the Prince sighs in contentment.

 

 

 

  
The car rolls smoothly up to the castle gates, and Minseok drops Jongin and Sehun off at a side door before bidding his goodbyes for the day. Soft candlelight illuminates the quiet hallways, and Jongin indulges the two of them by threading their fingers together as they make their way towards Sehun’s quarters. They only let go of each other when they approach Sehun’s door – the Prince dismisses the two watch guards, and Jongin waits until they’ve disappeared around the corner before following the Prince inside.

He helps Sehun undress, placing the circlet away in its case and picking up after Sehun as the Prince makes his way into the bathroom, leaving clothing strewn across the carpeted floor. Leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, he raps once on the frame.

“I’m going to shower too,” Jongin calls over the noise of the shower. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Shower with me,” Sehun says, sticking his head out of the glass door.

Jongin hesitates, trying to keep his gaze above Sehun’s waist level.

“Come,” Sehun tries again. “Please.”

That’s how Jongin finds himself stripping, fingers shaky against buttons and zippers as clothing drops off his frame. He’s acutely aware of Sehun’s gaze on him.

Steam curls around him when he steps into the shower — it’s spacious, glass walls surrounding smooth granite floor. There’s a bench against one side, the corner of it filled with bath products. Jongin’s never seen the inside of Sehun’s shower before.

“Closer,” Sehun says, fingers circling Jongin’s wrist. Jongin swallows and steps closer.

They shower in relative silence. The shower head takes up most of the space above them, so they’re spared the necessity of taking turns under the water stream.

“Look at me?”

Jongin raises his eyes; his heart leaps into his throat when he realises just how close they are. He’s been scrubbing at his body for minutes, too wrung up to focus on anything else.

“I won’t regret this,” he hears Sehun say. “Will you?”

“Of course not.”

Sehun reaches out to cup Jongin’s cheek. “Then touch me.”

Exhaling, Jongin closes the distance between them and kisses him soundly on the lips. “You’re sure you want this?”

In response, Sehun pulls one of Jongin’s hands down south to wrap around his growing erection. “This is just from thinking about you,” Sehun says. “I think I’m sure.”

Jongin finally glances down; at the sight of his fingers curled around Sehun’s cock, he feels his mouth dry up and his own cock jump.

“Okay,” he says. He pumps his hand a few times, the water providing just enough glide. Sehun moans softly into his mouth. “Okay.”

Water rains down on them, warm and soothing, and they take their time exploring the other’s body. Sehun takes Jongin’s erection in his own hand, and they trade kisses as they lazily pull on each other’s cocks.

“I want,” Sehun breathes. “I want more.”

“Sit,” Jongin instructs, letting go of Sehun to nudge him backwards. He drops down to his knees, chances a glance up through wet lashes, and spreads Sehun’s legs apart. The Prince’s intake of breath can be heard even above the sound of the water.

“Ever experienced this before?” Jongin asks, lips inches from the head of Sehun’s cock.

“No. How could I have?”

“It’s not that hard to sneak around the castle,” Jongin shrugs, then promptly closes his lips around the glistening head. Sehun’s mouth falls open, words lodging themselves in his throat, and his fingers fly to Jongin’s head.

Jongin teases him with his tongue — runs the flat of it up the thick vein on the underside, flicks it against the flare of the cockhead, dips it into the wet slit.

“You — hnn, you’ve done this before,” Sehun pants, gripping onto a handful of Jongin’s hair.

“Yeah,” Jongin admits. “None of them taste as good as you do, though.”

Jealousy flares up in the pit of Sehun’s stomach like an angry monster, but Jongin sucks hard right as he opens his mouth to say something, cheeks hollowing as he pulls back, and Sehun thinks he’ll deal with his jealousy later.

Fingers dip into the space between Sehun’s thighs to tug lightly at his balls, coaxing out moans that are music to Jongin’s ears. Jongin’s thumb brushes even lower, pressing a few times on the perineum — Sehun whines, desperate —, before rubbing over Sehun’s hole.

“Oh my god,” Sehun whimpers, slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Not today,” Jongin says, pulling back to slurp messily on the head. “We don’t have the necessary things.”

Sehun makes a distressed noise, and Jongin smiles fondly at him. He kisses the tip of Sehun’s cock and pushes gently on the back of Sehun’s thighs. “But I’ll do this to make up for it,” he says, shifting to sit. His knees ache, but the pain is well worth it. “Hold your knees up for me, okay?”

With a shaky hand, Sehun reaches down to push Jongin’s hair out of his eyes and does as he’s told.

The first swipe of Jongin’s tongue across his entrance has Sehun reeling with pleasure. He pulls on Jongin’s hair, probably causing the man quite a bit of pain, but Jongin simply licks harder.

Jongin eats him out nice and slow, the taste of the soap that Sehun uses flooding his senses. Slowly, he edges the tip of his tongue past the tight rim of muscle, wriggles it just deep enough to not cause Sehun any pain, and sucks.

Sehun arches off the wall, moaning loudly, and his thighs tremble from the exertion of keeping them spread apart.

“Let me hear you,” Jongin says, pulling Sehun’s cheeks further apart for better access. “I love the sounds you make.”

A litany of mewls float over to Jongin’s ears, and Jongin rewards him by setting a brutal pace with his tongue.

Sehun comes with a cry, balls drawn tight as come spurts out of his cock thickly. Jongin cleans it off his belly, tongue curling around the fluid and dipping teasingly into Sehun’s belly button. At the sensation, the Prince jerks with a tired laugh.

“I wanna kiss you,” Sehun says, and Jongin leans up to give him exactly what he wants.

Water continues to rain down on them, washing away any remaining evidence of their tryst. Lips still connected, Sehun slips off the ledge and settles between Jongin’s legs, wrapping a hand around the man’s achingly hard cock. With his free hand, he presses his palm against Jongin’s chest, just over his heart, revelling in the galloping of his heartbeat.

“I’m not gonna last,” Jongin warns. Sehun keeps his movements steady, wrist twisting on the upstroke and thumb constantly rubbing on the underside of the head.

“I don’t want you to.”

Sehun’s gaze is heavy on his face, and Jongin stares down, open-mouthed, at the image of his cock slipping easily through Sehun’s fist.

“I’m gonna —” Orgasm floods through his body like a cresting wave, and he spills over Sehun’s hand with a groan. He opens his eyes just in time to see Sehun lick the mess off his fingers curiously.

“Oh goodness,” he utters. “That’s… that’s not behaviour fit for a prince.”

“Good,” Sehun says. “I never wanted to be one anyway.”

After a quick rinse off, they collapse onto Sehun’s bed, wrapped up in fluffy towels and each other. Sehun falls asleep almost instantly, leaving Jongin gazing affectionately at his dozing face. Brushing locks of wet hair out of Sehun’s eyes, he gently eases the towel out from under him, replacing it with the duvet. He pulls Sehun close, and the Prince buries into his warmth automatically.

Jongin wishes this would last forever.

 

 

 

  
They enjoy a couple more months of peace, but the fragile sense of security collapses when the news of Sehun’s betrothal finds its way to the press.

Jongin wakes up one day to Minseok’s incessant shaking.

“What?” Rubbing at his eyes, Jongin peers groggily up at brother.

He feels a bundled up newspaper land in his lap.

_Crown Prince of Ecrin to be Wed to the Crown Princess of Violl This Fall!_

Dread settles into his heart like a poison. Fall? The wedding was planned for Spring. The _announcement_ was meant for Fall. Could the press have reported false news?

“Has Sehun seen this yet?” His voice sounds rough to his ears.

“Not sure. I came here first; thought you’d want some time to prepare yourself before dealing with the aftermath.”

Swinging his legs off the bed, Jongin tosses the newspaper onto his bedside table and disappears into the bathroom without another word. As he washes up, he hears his front door open and shut.

Water drips off his face as he stares at his reflection in the mirror. For once in his life, he feels utterly lost.

Ten minutes later, he finds himself at the door to Sehun’s quarters. He’s just about to knock when a guard down the hallway calls out to him.

“Sir, his Royal Highness isn’t in his quarters.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s meeting with His Majesty.”

Shit.

By the time Jongin gets to the throne room, a shouting match is already underway.

“It was meant to be next Spring!” Sehun’s yelling. He’s close enough to the doors that Jongin’s able to pick up on his words if he strains hard enough. “I’m already a pawn in this political game, at least give me some more time!”

He can’t hear the King’s response or explanation through the heavy oak doors, but judging by Sehun’s reaction, it’s nothing but bad news.

“I’ll do it, only because that’s the only option I have. But don’t think for a second that I will ever forget this.”

The doors swing open, and Sehun comes rushing out, anger and frustration clear in the flush spread across his cheekbones and the hardness in his eyes. He doesn’t even notice Jongin’s presence until Jongin rests a tentative hand on his shoulder.

“I was hoping I’d be the one to tell you.”

“That would be worse,” Sehun mumbles, not looking back at him as they make their way through the halls. It’s still early, the fullness of the sun just about exposed to the world.

“I’m sorry,” Jongin blurts.

At that, Sehun finally glances at him.

“Why are you sorry? None of this is your doing.”

“If I had just fought against our desires a little harder, we wouldn’t be in this position. We wouldn’t be losing everything we ever wanted.”

Those words seem to add oil to the flames already flickering inside of the Prince. “Don’t say that shit to my face. Do you regret being with me?”

“Never,” Jongin says. “My whole life _is_ being with you.”

“I made the decision to be with you of my own volition. You understand me? If it was a bad decision, _I_ will admit that myself.”

Jongin nods slowly. “I understand.”

The stone walls seem suffocating. “Press conference is in a week.” Sehun’s expression spares no emotion.

“Did… Did His Majesty say why the wedding was pushed forward?”

“There’s been increasing chatter regarding military action by Hellonde, and out of the nations, we have the most…”

“Our relations with Hellonde aren’t ideal,” Jongin finishes. Sehun nods as they turn a corner, taking the stairs two at a time.

“Dad wants Violl’s forces on our side should anything occur.”

“It’s… a smart move.”

“Don’t defend him,” Sehun snaps. They’re at Sehun’s door, and Jongin wisely keeps his mouth shut as they enter the room.

A low thud sounds almost instantly, and Jongin turns around from where he’d been locking the door to see Sehun with his forehead pressed against a wall, fisted hands resting next to his temples. His back curves in and Jongin easily spots the shaking of his shoulders.

“I’m so _angry_ ,” Sehun mutters thickly. “How is it that someone can have absolutely no control over his own life?”

Wetness spreads over Jongin’s fingertips when he lifts Sehun’s head to wipe at his cheeks.

“I love you,” he says earnestly, quiet and imploring. “I’ll always be with you.”

Tears cling to Sehun’s eyelashes as he closes his eyes. “I know.”

 

 

 

  
Throughout the press conference, Jongin doesn’t take his eyes off the Prince’s. He’s in the shadows, standing far enough so that the media doesn’t pick up his presence, but close enough to be able to protect Sehun should anything happen. The Prince is dressed in formal royal wear, perfectly tailored pants clinging to lithe legs and crimson cape settling around broad shoulders like it was meant to be there.

He stands next to his father as the King speaks, an image of confidence and poise, seen in the set of his back and shoulders.

“You okay?”

Jongin glances at his brother out of the corner of his eye. “Could be better.”

Cameras flash when Sehun takes the podium. Jongin turns back to watch, mouth full of cotton, as sparks of electricity leave Sehun’s fingers and burn his signature into the parchment proclaiming his upcoming union with Crown Princess Mira of Violl.

He says a few words that the media eats up, but Jongin doesn’t even register them as he watches Sehun stamp the parchment with the royal seal. That’s it; it’s done, it’s official.

“Crown Prince Sehun and his retinue will embark on a trip to Violl in the coming weeks, bringing betrothal gifts and the spirit of Ecrin to our future ally. We look forward to working with the people of Violl to effectuate a better future.”

The square, filled with thousands of citizens, thunders with applause. Jongin feels it in his bones.

 

 

 

  
Lips are soft against the curve of his neck, and Jongin closes his eyes when he feels teeth latch onto his flesh. It’s the night before their departure to Violl, and Sehun had managed to convince Jongin to take the day off, passing all responsibilities over to Minseok. The older Kingsguard was more than willing to give the couple some time to themselves, something that the both of them are immensely grateful for.

Candlelight flickers in Sehun’s bedroom, casting soft glows across the walls and their bare bodies, shadows just dark enough to mask the sadness in Sehun’s eyes. Jongin wants to make everything better, but this is one problem he cannot fix.

Time seems to pass slowly and much too quickly at the same time. They’ve been curled up on the couch, trading soft kisses and touches as music trickles out of the record player. Between kisses, Jongin doesn’t take his eyes off of the Prince, wondering where things had gone wrong and cursing himself for letting his resolve slip. As a Kingsguard and part of Sehun’s retinue, he’s always supposed to have his head on right, to keep in control of any situation, and yet he has completely let this go awry.

“Make love to me,” Sehun breathes, voice quiet and unsteady as his fingers move to trace the curve of Jongin’s jaw.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m always sure with you. I love you.”

There’s a tug on his hair, and Jongin leans back just enough to let Sehun shower kisses all over his neck.

“I’m sorry we didn’t have much time,” Jongin whispers, thumbing at Sehun’s kiss-pink lips. Sehun just presses a finger to Jongin’s in return, head shaking ever-so-slightly. Night air coming in from an open window brushes against their skin, a gentle caress that reminds Jongin of Sehun’s touch.

“Bed,” Sehun says, standing and pulling Jongin to his feet.

They tumble onto silk sheets, chests pressed impossibly close and arousals brushing.

“What do you want?” Jongin asks, rolling Sehun onto his back. Dark locks spread out over his head, enticing and endearing all at once.

“You,” Sehun answers, pupils dilating with every stroke of Jongin’s hand up his flank. “Just you.”

Nudging toned thighs apart, Jongin leans in for another kiss before slipping his hands down between their bodies to palm at Sehun’s erection. It lies prettily against his stomach, flushed red and smooth.

Jongin takes his time, mouthing down Sehun’s chest to lave at perky nipples, fingers never letting up on their ministrations to Sehun’s cock. He keeps a gentle hand curled around Sehun’s neck, and the Prince nuzzles into his palm, breathless, with every stroke of his cock.

“More,” Sehun says, hooking an ankle around Jongin’s waist to draw him closer.

“More?” Jongin drops a kiss on Sehun’s cheek and runs a finger down the cleft of his ass. “Here?” He presses on the man’s entrance.

A puff of air ghosts across Jongin’s shoulder. “Yeah.”

“You want me to eat you out?”

He can practically feel the blush rise in Sehun’s cheeks.

“N-No, I want you up here so I can kiss you.”

“Okay, love.”

A crackle of electricity bursts through the air, and a bottle of lube appears in Sehun’s hand. The bedside drawer hangs open.

Jongin takes his hand off of Sehun’s arousal to pour some lube onto his fingers, watching with a subtle smile on his face when Sehun’s hips lift up instinctively in search of relief.

“Open up for me.”

With a soft mewl, Sehun pulls his knees closer to his chest, spreading his thighs out as wide as is comfortable.

Slickness rubs against his entrance, and Sehun thrusts up into Jongin’s fist when the first finger pushes into him.

“Good?”

“Perfect.”

Despite how hard he is, Jongin forgets about his own erection as he tries his best to flood Sehun with pleasure. He curls his finger just the way Sehun likes it, adds another one when Sehun moans for it, never once forgetting to swipe his thumb over the Prince’s dripping slit, smearing the precum over the head and down around the frenulum.

He’s three fingers deep when Sehun starts squirming, toes curling and digging into Jongin’s back.

“Inside me,” he whines.

So Jongin extracts his fingers and reaches out for a condom, only to have Sehun latch onto his arm.

“Don’t want one.”

“What? Are you sure?”

“I wanna feel all of you. Before I can’t anymore.”

They kiss, Sehun burying fingers into Jongin’s hair to hold him in place, desperate whimpers swallowed up by Jongin’s mouth.

Jongin slides in, hips stuttering at the smooth heat that envelops him. Sparks of pain ripple down his back — Sehun’s nails are carving half-moons into his skin, but Jongin loves it.

He rocks once into the pliant body beneath him, relishing in the sounds that Sehun makes. “Slow? Or fast?”

“Slow,” Sehun says, pushing down onto Jongin’s cock. “I want it to last.”

So Jongin keeps his thrusts slow and deep, trying to make sure he nudges against Sehun’s prostate as often as possible. It becomes a sweaty affair, a slight sheen developing on their skin as Sehun’s struggles to keep his leg hooked around Jongin’s hips.

Sehun’s first orgasm hits after twenty minutes, the constant pressure on his prostate and the friction of his cock rubbing between their slick bodies proving too much to handle.

He comes with a moan nestled into the crook of Jongin’s neck, spilling onto his stomach as Jongin continues fucking into him.

“Can you keep going?”

Sehun bites down on his lip and nods. Grabbing onto the inside on Sehun’s knee for purchase, Jongin leans down to suck Sehun’s bottom lip into his mouth, teeth grazing sensitive flesh, hips never ceasing in their movements.

“So good,” Sehun groans, fists twisting in the sheets. “So good to me.”

“I love you,” Jongin says fiercely. “You know that, right?”

“I do,” Sehun cries, feeling another orgasm approach. “I really do.”

Jongin pulls on Sehun’s cock a few times, ignoring the tackiness of dried come, and wrenches the Prince’s second orgasm right out of him.

As Sehun catches his breath, Jongin continues pushing deep inside him.

“Come inside me,” Sehun says, gazing up at him.

As always, Jongin’s never been able to say no to him.

 

 

 

  
The boot slam shuts, and Jongin moves over to the side of the car to open the door for Sehun. Sehun slides in quietly, sunglasses perched on his nose, and Jongin closes it once he’s seated.

“It’ll be a five-day journey to Violl,” Junmyeon, head advisor to the King, says. He passes an envelope, sealed with the royal stamp, over to Minseok. “Provide us with regular updates. The Prince is expected to spend a week there, but if a longer stay is necessary, just let us know so we are aware.”

“Will do,” Minseok says.

Junmyeon bids them goodbye with a lifted hand. Minseok pulls the car out of the castle’s garage and drives through heavy iron gates. As they drive past, Jongin stares silently at the parallel rows of guards that snap to attention. He’s seated up front next to his brother – judging by the expression on Sehun’s face, he would rather be left alone.

The stereo is tuned into a station that plays soft rock, and as cityscapes give way to stretches of grassland, Jongin feels his mind start to drift. After a few hours on the road, Sehun’s fast asleep, and Jongin starts work on the many diplomatic papers spread out across his lap.

“He doing okay?”

“Not quite,” Jongin replies evenly, scanning text and jotting down important notes in a notebook. “As is to be expected.”

“You doing okay?” Minseok keeps his voice light, but Jongin can tell his brother’s concerned.

“Trying my best,” Jongin sighs, snapping a binder clip over a sheath of papers. “I have to be, for him and for us. I have to be able to do my job, at the very least.”

“The both of you have to find a way to move on,” Minseok says, resting an elbow on the window sill. “I know you don’t want to hear that, but –”

“I know it’s what we should do,” Jongin says. He twirls his pen between his fingers. “But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go of him. I’ll never interfere with the marriage, of course, but it’s always going to be him. For me, anyway. I hope he’ll be able to move on though. I want him to be happy with his situation, even if it only happens in the far future. Knowing him, how stubborn he can be and how averse he is to changes in his life, it’ll take time, but I believe in him. Mira is a nice girl, I’m certain she’ll make a great wife. I’ll be content just being able to continue serving him. He will always be my King.”

In the back seat, Sehun shifts. The brothers don’t notice, and Sehun takes the opportunity to swipe at a tear.

 

 

 

  
They spend the first night in a motel, the three of them taking the suite. Sehun gets the bed, of course, and Jongin politely declines the unspoken invitation of joining him. Instead, the brothers make do with the couches. Neither Sehun nor Jongin gets much sleep that night.

The second night passes just as uneventfully.

On the third day, however, everything goes up in flames. Quite literally.

Their car narrowly avoids getting blown to shreds when Minseok slams on the breaks and yanks the wheel around just in time. Mere seconds later, comet-sized fireballs pummel down onto the road in front of them, gauging craters into the earth. Flames flicker to life all around them, catching onto the trees running along the sides of the road and spreading into the neighbouring woods at an alarming rate.

“Hellonde,” Sehun breathes. There’s blood running down the side of his face from where he’d slammed his head into the window. “We gotta get out of here.”

Minseok spins the car around, the wheels shrieking against the asphalt, and presses on the accelerator. They manage to make it a few hundred metres down the road before another assault of fireballs occurs. One lands right on the hood of the car, and the passengers launch themselves out onto crumbled roads before the vehicle blows up and takes them with it.

“What the fuck is happening,” Minseok pants, getting to his feet and wincing at the raw skin stretching along his shin.

Pain throbs in his skull, almost as if someone’s playing a game of pinball inside his head. “I have an inkling,” Jongin grunts, rolling over.

“Hellonde’s declared war.”

Looking up, Jongin sees Sehun on his feet, the sleeve of his jacket ripped up to the elbow and blood smeared across the side of his face. His eyes are unreadable as they stare up at the sky. “We’re supposed to be prepared for it.”

“What do we do?”

Sehun swallows visibly. “We fight.”

Miraculously, the phone that Minseok keeps tucked away in his pocket survives the ordeal. It takes him several tries to reach a member of Ecrin’s council, but Minseok finally gets confirmation that Hellonde has indeed declared war on Ecrin and Violl. Aerilon and Yerrin are choosing to stay neutral, but there’s no guarantee it won’t end up becoming a full-scale war between the five nations.

They receive orders to travel towards Hellonde, meeting up with the Ecrin army along the way.

“It’s not going to be easy,” Minseok warns. “Travelling this far in such a short amount of time will take a lot of magic, and it will drain you.”

“I know,” Sehun says, shrugging out of his ruined jacket. Without a second thought, he drops it onto a few burning embers. Around them, fire continues to rage. “But we have no other options.”

There’s ash smudged across the bridge of his nose, and Jongin wants to reach over and clean it off. Instead, he nods, turns to fish out his sword from the car wreck, and secures it in place.

“Hold on,” Sehun says, extending his hands to the brothers. Everyone’s hands are more than a little sweaty, and Sehun uses that as an excuse to grip onto Jongin’s hand just a little tighter. “It might feel… much rougher than it did during practices.”

His gaze locks with Jongin’s, and the next thing Jongin feels is the whole world getting yanked out from beneath his feet.

It takes them hours to reach the rendezvous point. They space out the teleportation with short breaks, but Sehun’s almost unconscious by the time they step foot into the base. They’ve all but exhausted the Prince’s magic, and Jongin nearly bites the heads off of a group of soldiers when they fail to get out of his way.

Jongin lays Sehun down on a cot and orders one of the medics to administer an IV and several magic replenishing potions.

“Be right back,” Jongin murmurs, leaning down to brush Sehun’s hair off his clammy forehead. “Just gotta report to my superiors. Rest well, okay?”

Sehun hums weakly, and Jongin glances back over his shoulder a few times as he leaves the tent. He sees Minseok across the quad hunched over a large table, probably discussing battle plans. Jongin sighs tiredly; he’ll probably have to join them for that later. But for now, he owes Sehun’s father a report.

 

 

 

  
“Violl’s army will attack from the other direction – the goal is a pincer attack. Violl forces will increase the levels of water vapour in the air to amplify our magic, and we’ll attack with both magic and artillery. We move out in three days.”

Leaving the rest of the higher-ups to discuss more detailed tactics, Jongin slips out of the tent and heads toward the makeshift kitchen. It’s dusk, the sun bleeding a dark orange into the blueness of the sky. Knowing Sehun, the Prince is probably elbow deep in training, wanting to squeeze in as much practice as he can before they’re due to depart. He grabs two trays of food and heads off in search of Sehun.

He finds Sehun sparring with Yuri out in the open, one of the Commanders of the Kingsguard, and known for her mastery of the trident. The Prince himself is wielding one of the Royal Katanas, and both of them have their weapons imbued with magic. There’s a sizable crowd around them, young soldiers of both sexes watching with rapt attention as the two spar.

“Highness,” Jongin calls. People around him move out of his way. “Dinner?”

“We’re busy,” Yuri points out, dodging a swing of the deadly blade. Sparks sizzle by her ear.

“He still needs to eat,” Jongin says.

“I’ll let him go if he beats me,” Yuri grins. Sehun narrows his eyes. “I guess you could help him out.”

“... This is not my fight.”

“Do it,” Sehun grunts. “We’ve been at this for the past hour, and at this rate, we’ll probably still be at it when the sun rises tomorrow.”

Jongin hedges, but eventually gives in, setting the trays down on a nearby table before drawing his sword and channelling Sehun’s magic into the blade.

“Oho,” Yuri singsongs, “this is gonna be fun! Let’s see how well our Prince and his retainer work together, eh?”

If there’s one thing about their relationship that Jongin will willingly boast about, it’s their chemistry when it comes to fighting together. It’s something that just works seamlessly, and judging by the expression on Sehun’s face, Jongin knows he’s thinking the same thing.

The battle flashes by in a flurry of electricity and clashes of metal. They rarely communicate verbally when they fight, preferring to rely on their familiarity with each other’s battle style and body language. Yuri lasts all of three minutes, her eyes comically wide when Sehun rests the flat of his blade against the right side of her throat, Jongin’s to the left.

“Well,” she says after a beat. “I concede.”

“Great,” Jongin says, sheathing his blade. “The food should still be warm.”

Yuri lets them go with a bow, smiling when Sehun squeezes her arm in return.

“We’ve still got it,” Sehun says, shoulder bumping into Jongin’s as they settle onto a bench.

“We’ve never lost it,” Jongin shrugs. He strokes his thumb over the ridges of Sehun’s knuckles before pulling back and tucking into his food.

 

 

 

  
It’s a hulking thing, Hellonde’s battleship. A large shadow looms over them, and it feels suffocating. Ecrin has fighter jets, but it would take a boatload of explosives, not to mention time, to make a dent in _that_.

“This is…” Junmyeon lets his words trail off, unable to think of a term able to fully convey his thoughts.

Jongin merely grunts in agreement, a hand tight around the hilt of his sword.

A few feet in front of him, Sehun cuts an imposing figure. Shoulders drawn back, spine pulled tall, Royal Arms in hand as magic seems to crackle around him. His circlet rests on his head, blood red cape fluttering in the wind generated by the battleship.

“We’ll have to hold them off until Violl’s army gets into position,” Jongin hears his father say. There’s the unmistakable sound of weapons being drawn. “Until the rest of our men are able to join us, they will outnumber us. Fight smart.”

Overhead, machinery begins to whir.

“Hey.” Jongin rips his attention away from the battleship and looks straight into Sehun’s eyes. “With me?”

“Of course,” he replies instantly. “Always, Highness.”

Next to him, Minseok nods in agreement.

“Be safe,” Sehun adds.

“You as well,” Jongin says.

There’s a hint of a smile on Sehun’s lips, but Jongin doesn’t have the time to study it any longer, for Hellondian soldiers have begun their descent.

 

 

 

  
The battlefield is, simply put, an absolute mess. Crimson seeping into dirt marks the fading lives of soldiers, and the air carries the stench of steam, sulphur, and hints of saltpetre.

“This is never-ending,” Minseok grunts, wrenching his lance out of an enemy’s stomach. It comes free with a squelch. He finds himself on his back seconds later, Jongin’s arm wound tight around his middle. A fireball lands on where he was standing just moments ago.

“Pay attention to your surroundings,” Jongin snaps, scrambling to his feet and checking on Sehun’s whereabouts. “I don’t have the ability to keep an eye on both you and our charge.”

He wipes blood from the corner of his mouth and spares his brother a second glance before rushing forward to run the sharp edge of his blade across another Hellondian’s throat. Electricity buzzes in the palm of his hand, and Jongin flings an energy ball towards a gunman who’s got his gun pointed at Sehun. He goes down instantly, the electrical current running right through his heart.

“I gotta run an idea by you,” Sehun says, brow furrowed in exertion as lightning discharges from the tips of his fingers, cracking through the air and sending a dozen soldiers to their feet. His cape’s tattered, the edges singed, and Jongin can see small blisters forming on Sehun’s exposed skin – he’s never been good at dealing with heat.

“What’s that?” Jongin blows up a fireball in midair, then proceeds to force Sehun to drink a healing elixir.

“I think the only way to hold back the onslaught is to sneak into the battleship and destroy it from within, while all the attention is focused on the fight here. The three of us can probably make it up there without them noticing; there aren’t many of us that can teleport over an extended distance, and they need my father here to lead.”

Jongin’s first instinct is to vehemently disapprove of the plan, but the logical part of him knows that it’s a better plan than what they’re facing right now. The longer this battle drags on, the weaker they’ll get.

“Alright,” he says. “We’ll do it. You _stick with us_ , okay? Do not go running off on your own.”

Sehun agrees.

 

 

 

  
Sweat trickles down between his scapulas, and Jongin briefly wonders if he’s allowed to just… strip. It’s hot as hell in the battleship – you could probably fry an egg on a surface. They’re on a mission to find the control room, and their senses are on high alert.

In such a tight space, running into enemies is hardly avoidable. They’ve run into a few soldiers, thankfully never in numbers that leave them feeling overwhelmed, and it takes just a little effort to subdue them before they alert the rest of the ship.

After almost half an hour of searching, they finally come across the control room.

“These things always have a self-destruct button, right?” Minseok asks, peering at several panels.

“Here’s to hoping that there is indeed one,” Jongin mumbles.

They split up, drifting into different areas of the room in search of something that’ll help them destroy this bloody thing. Ten minutes later, Jongin finds himself craving a glass of ice cold water.

“Is it just me,” Sehun groans, running his sleeve across his forehead, “or has it gotten hotter in here?”

“It really has.” Jongin plucks at the damp fabric of his shirt, grimacing at the stickiness of it against his skin. Rolling his head, he exhales and blinks blearily through the muggy heat. It takes him several seconds to register what exactly it is that’s in the room with them.

“I know why it’s hotter than usual,” he says slowly. A drop of sweat threatens to fall off his eyelashes and into his eye.

“Uh huh?”

“Hellhound,” he croaks, slowly drawing his weapon.

The other two spin around immediately, eyes wide as they take in the creature in front of them. The Hellhound is panting, large tongue hanging out of its mouth, an unruly set of fangs displayed for all to see. Steam unfurls from its red coat of fur. It’s almost as tall as they are, and the power contained in those muscles poses a significant threat to them.

Minseok hurries over to his brother’s side just as the Hellhound crouches down, getting ready to pounce.

“Prince,” Minseok says, weapon at the ready. “You focus on finding something that’ll help. We’ll fend it off.”

Sehun opens his mouth, probably to argue, but the brothers don’t give him a chance. Matching expressions of determination on their faces, they surge forward to fight and protect their Prince.

 

 

 

  
At some point, Sehun manages to find the program to shut the battleship down, but he’s stuck on figuring out the correct codes. Sweat drips off the end of his chin onto the keyboards. Behind him, the brothers are still battling the Hellhound, but Sehun forces himself to focus on the task at hand. They’re two of the best Kingsguard the nation has to offer; they’ll do just fine.

He’s so engrossed in his work that he doesn’t hear the warning shouts behind him.

Someone runs into him, knocking him well off his feet and sending him rolling into the wall. Disoriented, Sehun has to take a moment to collect himself before scrambling to his feet.

“What – oh my god, _Jongin!_ ”

“Highness!” Minseok yells. “Move!”

But he can’t. Jongin’s on the ground, mere feet away from him, covered in blood. Sehun can’t even tell if he’s breathing. His stomach lurches when he realises that Jongin’s arm is dangling from the Hellhound’s teeth, ripped clean off the shoulder. Terror promptly gives way to pure fury when the Hellhound turns towards him.

“You,” Sehun snarls, magic surging through his veins. “Minseok, take Jongin and get out of here. Get him to a medic now.”

“I can’t do that. He’ll kill me if he finds out that I left you here alone.”

“I said _take him and get out_ ,” Sehun barks, flinging powerful spheres of energy at the Hound. It howls, Jongin’s limp arm dropping onto the ground with a sick thud as thick droplets of blood drip from its eyes. “It’s an order. I’ll return once I’ve slain this beast.”

Sprinting to the other side of the room, Sehun manages to lure the Hellhound away from the brothers, giving Minseok just enough time to sling an unconscious Jongin across his shoulders.

“Sehun –”

“I’ll be fine,” Sehun says, eyes hard. Bolts of lightning are starting to form in the air around him. “I’m trained for this shit, am I not?”

 

 

 

  
Sehun teleports back into camp to find out that Violl’s forces have arrived. Working together, the army’s managed to keep the battleship at bay. Striding through the mass of sweaty, bloodied, and exhausted soldiers, Sehun ignores various people calling out to him in favour of finding the medic tent.

He spots Minseok first.

“Where is he?”

Minseok jerks his thumb towards the tent behind him. He’s got blood all down his shirt, matted in the strands of his hair and dried along his jaw.

“How is he?”

“Stable,” Minseok says, voice sounding horribly rough to Sehun’s ears. “They’re trying to see what they can do for his arm.”

Sehun squeezes the man’s shoulder and ducks into the tent.

There’s a small crowd surrounding Jongin’s prone frame.

“Status,” Sehun demands, unceremoniously shoving his way into the centre of the fray. His stomach drops at the sight of Jongin, lying pale and armless on the cot.

“We’re trying to collect enough material to fashion him a makeshift prosthesis to keep the nerves activated until we head back to Ecrin,” someone replies, frazzled. “That should be doable, but even so, there isn’t enough magic between us to create one that can –”

“I’m here, aren’t I? What do I need to do?”

“Highness,” a nurse ventures. “It’ll take a lot out of you.”

“I won’t die from it,” Sehun snaps. “Now _tell me what to do_.”

Later, Sehun manages to stay conscious long enough to see the doctors successfully attach the prosthesis to Jongin’s shoulder before he allows himself to fall into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

  
Crusted from having stayed shut for so long, Jongin’s eyelids struggle to lift. Sounds, albeit muted, start to float into his ears, and if Jongin focused hard enough, he can make out several familiar voices.

He feels starched fabric underneath his palms. Wait. He feels starched fabric underneath one palm. That moment of awareness is enough to convince his eyelids to fight just a little harder.

Light assaults his eyes, and Jongin lets out an involuntary groan of pain.

“He’s up.”

The light is dimmed, and Jongin squints through fuzziness to see Minseok hovering over him.

“Hey buddy,” Minseok says. Jongin smells coffee on his breath – weird, because Minseok only ever drinks coffee when he’s stressed. “How’re you feeling?”

What a weird question. Why are they acting like –

Jongin inhales. “W-what happened?” He croaks.

Minseok frowns, worried. “You don’t remember? The battle against Hellonde?”

Flashes of it flicker through his mind’s eye. “Battle… Where – where’s Sehun?” Panicked, Jongin tries to sit up, but something gives out and he slumps back onto the pillow.

“He’s okay,” Minseok assures him. “He’s in a meeting right now. Do you remember the Hellhound?”

His throat is parched, and Jongin licks his chapped lips in an attempt to moisten them. A nurse notices, and he passes over a metal cup filled with cool water, a red straw hanging over its rim.

Red. He remembers a lot of red. A lot of heat.

“Hellhound…”

His head is pounding. He lifts a hand to press against his temple, but instead of feeling clammy fingertips, he feels cool metal against his skin. Metal?

It hits him like a truck of bricks.

“My arm,” Jongin gasps, staring at his brother and refusing to look at his left arm.

“I’m sorry,” Minseok says, squeezing his right hand. “Sehun’s very sorry as well.”

Swallowing around the lump in his throat, Jongin chances a glance towards his left. There, instead of his own arm, lies one made out of titanium, the gunmetal surface smooth and shiny. There’s gold melded into the knuckles and fingertips, presumably containing conduits that’ll help with magic utilization.

“Sehun, ah, helped create it.”

Jongin flexes his metal fingers, unnerved at how natural it feels.

A doctor standing by his bedside clears her throat. “You won’t feel surface pain, and it withstands a fair amount of heat. Any form of twisting will cause pain, however, as your nerves are still intact. And, ah, you won’t be able to feel touch either.”

A pause. “How long have I been out?”

“You were in a medically induced coma for almost three weeks. We needed to make sure the arm would work with your nervous system, and we took the time to run a multitude of tests. We’re satisfied with the results.”

Jongin stares as he curls the fingers of his left hand into a fist. Clenching tight, he nods slowly. “Alright. And what of the war?”

“It went on for the better part of five days. With Violl’s help, we managed to demand a ceasefire, but Hellonde is demanding an audience with the royal family in exchange for future peace.”

Something nags at Jongin.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he says. “Where is this meeting supposed to be held?”

“ _Terra nullius_.”

That’s _definitely_ not right. _Terra nullius_ is barren, an insulator of magic, and whatever crime that happens within that area cannot be prosecuted by any nation.

“I need to speak with Dad,” Jongin demands, yanking the IV out of his right arm and swinging his legs over to the side of the bed. “I believe – no, I’m quite positive that this is a trap.”

“We’ve considered that,” Minseok says, keeping a hand on Jongin’s elbow to stabilise him as he slips into a change of clothes. “But by the time Violl’s army arrived, we were nearly decimated. Over 65% of our troops have fallen, and we cannot risk Hellonde’s army storming our gates. While we meet them, Violl has promised that their troops will stand in for ours. Should Hellonde try to invade while our royals are away, there will be adequate forces here to stop them.”

“I’m not worried about them sneaking an attack here while the higher-ups are gone,” Jongin says, running his hand over his chin. He grimaces at the stubble he feels. “I’m worried about them killing the royals once they step foot onto _Terra nullius_ soil. With the royal bloodline gone, they’re free to claim the throne. They certainly have the power to do so.”

“We’ve considered that, too. That’s why the best of the Kingsguard will be accompanying him. I’ll be going, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Him? Who’s him?”

“Sehun’s going, Jongin. The King is injured and getting on in age. The Council has decided that Sehun is the better choice. The King will be part of the envoy until the border of _Terra nullius_.”

Jongin can hear his heart pounding, blood rushing through his ears.

“Take me to him. Please.”

 

 

 

  
The doors to the council room are slightly ajar, and Jongin picks up his pace when he hears voices trailing out into the hallway. He feels weak, thighs trembling with lack of use, but he’s determined to get in there and convince the Council to rethink their decision.

He spares a knock before barging in.

“You can’t send him,” Jongin blurts, feeling a flush surge up to his cheeks when everyone around the grand table turns to stare at him. “It’s assuredly a trap. They’ll kill him once he steps foot into _Terra nullius_.”

There’s a heavy second of silence, broken when Sehun rises from his seat.

Jongin takes his first proper look at his Prince in weeks – he’s got a thin, healing scar running from his bottom lip down past his chin, and there’s a patch of skin by his neck that looks like it had been burnt.

“You’re awake,” Sehun says, hurrying over to his side. Jongin doesn’t miss the regrettable look Sehun gives his metal arm. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine,” Jongin says, not wanting to waste time talking about things that they cannot undo. “You cannot go, Sehun. Make them come to us, or go to Hellonde. Don’t –”

“This is the only way,” Sehun interrupts gently. He curls fingers around Jongin’s wrist, thumb brushing against the knob of bone. “I’ll be okay. There will be people with me, and more will be waiting by the border should need arise.”

“You don’t understand,” Jongin says, frustrated. “The Hellhound – it was a clone. Hellhounds are extinct in nature, and they have never been that vicious. That Hound was genetically enhanced. _You cannot go_ – you simply have no knowledge of what they’re capable of. Who knows what else they have up their sleeves?”

He sees uncertainty flashing in Sehun’s eyes, and sheer relief floods through him.

It’s short-lived, however, because the next person who speaks up isn’t Sehun, but the King.

“Be that as it may,” Jongin hears, choosing not to take his eyes off Sehun’s face despite how disrespectful it is, “he will still be going. Offending them is not a risk I am willing to take.”

 _It’s not_ your _life in danger, is it?_ Is what Jongin wants to spit, but he tightens his jaw and stays silent.

“Besides,” the King continues, “it’s too late to change our plans now. We will be leaving for _Terra nullius_ at sunrise.”

 

 

 

  
Sleep is unable to claim him. Jongin had demanded to be discharged, unwilling to spend another hour in the hospital. Now, in the dead of the night, he finds himself lying flat on his bed with the sheets half draped across his torso as he stares up at his ceiling. The metal limb lies awkwardly to his side.

The ceiling fan whirs, a steady rhythm that normally lulls Jongin to sleep. He sighs, turning his head to look out the window at the night sky. Several stars hang high across the dark canvas, twinkling prettily for everyone to see. A slice of peace, of serenity.

Three knocks sound on his door, jostling him out of his thoughts.

Jongin rolls out of bed, pulls a robe on over his boxers, and opens the door.

There, standing out in the hallway and bathed in the soft light of candles, is Sehun. He’s already dressed in royal garb – they’re probably meeting up before departure in order to run over emergency battle plans and whatnot.

“I just wanted to see you before I left,” Sehun says quietly. “Can I come in?”

Nodding, Jongin steps aside and lets Sehun in before shutting the door.

“Did I wake you?”

“No,” Jongin says, gesturing for Sehun to take a seat with his right hand. “I was awake. Couldn’t sleep, really.”

Sehun doesn’t take a seat. Instead, he closes the distance between them and clasps both of Jongin’s hands between his own.

“Thank you,” Sehun murmurs, running his fingers reverently over the cool, metal surface of Jongin’s new hand. “For putting my safety first.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” Jongin says, staring at their hands. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“I know you would. I don’t know how I feel about that. I would never want you to die for me, you know that right?”

“Yeah, but I would.”

Sehun stays silent for a moment, fingers still ghosting over the titanium limb. “I would too. For you. Which is why I’m going. I have a role to play, I have people to protect.”

Hot panic bubbles up in his stomach. Jongin swears he can taste bile in the back of his throat.

“Don’t go,” he says hoarsely. “Don’t do it. Just – give me some time, I’m sure there’s another way. I’ll figure out another way, Sehun. It’s too dangerous.”

Sehun’s fingers trail up his prosthetic to cup a quivering jaw.

“You know I never ask you for much,” Jongin continues, turning his face towards the palm by his cheek. His lips brush over warm skin. “But I’m asking you this. Stay here. With me.”

“Jongin…” Sehun sighs, and Jongin feels the puff of air across his lips. He’s suddenly hit with shame – it’s not his place to be putting one man’s life above a nation’s. But everything he does has always been for the Prince, and this is no different.

“I can’t go with you,” Jongin says hopelessly, metal fingers curling into a fist. “I can’t go with you and protect you like I’m supposed to.”

“I’ll come back,” Sehun promises. “I’ll come home. Wait for me, okay?”

 

 

 

  
For a week and a half, Jongin waits.

He eats up his time by familiarising himself with his new arm, recruiting a couple of soldiers to spar with him and spending most of his free time in the gym, in an attempt to make up for the muscle mass he’d lost over the past month. The arm works perfectly – although it is a _little_ harder to execute finer motor movements such as threading thread through a needle –, and if it weren’t for the fact that it was made out of titanium, Jongin would never have noticed a difference. He leads several patrol squads, working together with Viollese soldiers to secure their border and keep an eye out for any trouble within the city.

It’s during one of his patrolling shifts that the royal retinue returns. He spots the envoy easily, the sleek, black vehicles standing out against the landscape even from this distance.

“Mark,” he says, feet already moving. “You’re in charge here.”

The subsequent _yes, Sir!_ is drowned out by the ringing of his heartbeat in his ears.

Figures are pouring out of the cars by the time Jongin makes it to the front gates of the castle. His eyes rake over each one as they appear – he sees his brother first, battered and bruised but alive and whole.

It eases the tightness in his chest somewhat when Minseok doesn’t flinch at their eye contact. Good, that means Sehun is still alive.

He takes a few cautious steps towards the envoy. Several members of the Kingsguard shuffle by him, clearly exhausted, and Jongin doesn’t miss the torn uniforms or the dried blood that seems to cover them all. He doesn’t miss the fact that there are more than a handful of missing faces. Jongin assumes they’re dead.

Finally, a familiar frame unfolds itself from the backseat of a car. Jongin lets go of the breath he’d been holding, and he crosses the short distance between them in record time.

“You’re back,” Jongin says, trying to keep his voice even. There are others around them, after all.

“Yeah,” Sehun says. Jongin sees the strain around his eyes, in the set of his mouth, and down the slope of his shoulders. “You were right. Not that _I’m_ surprised.”

“What?”

“You were right about us not knowing what they’re capable of. As it turns out, their own royal retinue is similarly… genetically enhanced. Able to wield magic despite being on _Terra nullius_ land.” Sehun pauses to glare icily at the Councilmen still present. Some have the grace to bow their heads. Minseok, alongside their father, settles into position behind Sehun, ever faithful retainers to the Crown.

“How did…”

“I was prepared. Unlike many of the people here, I chose to listen to what you had to say. So I went with a few tricks up my own sleeve. I’ll spare you the long version, but I will tell you that we left no one but their Princess alive. Someone has to return to Hellonde to deliver the news, after all.”

Jongin doesn’t quite know what to say.

After a few moments, the hardness in Sehun’s eyes soften, and he reaches out to run tender fingers through Jongin’s hair. Jongin freezes.

“Um,” he manages to utter, gaze flicking nervously around them. “ _Highness?_ ”

Sehun smiles, and Jongin picks up on the hint of sadness in the quirk of his lips.

“I am no longer Prince, Jongin.”

It is then that Jongin notices the absence of the King.

“My father passed on the battlefield. Your father made a valiant effort to keep him safe and alive.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jongin says quietly, wanting nothing more in that instance than to hold the other man safe in his arms.

Sehun surprises him by leaning in and kissing him softly on the lips. Not a single person reacts to the sight.

“What’s done is done,” Sehun says. “I have to rule now. There will be time for mourning later.”

The new King ascends the stairs of the castle, one step at a time, and Jongin stays right by his side.

 

 

 

  
“What’s all this?”

Jongin walks up to Sehun’s desk and gestures to the mess of papers strewn across the surface.

“I’m trying to draft a new treaty with Violl,” Sehun huffs, chewing on the end of his pen. “It’s a lot to think about. Hani’s been a great help, but I can’t heap everything onto her, you know? She’s my advisor, not my… _ugh_ , I don’t know.”

“Why do you even have to draft a new one?”

The pen slips out from between Sehun’s fingers.

“Are you positively _stupid_ ,” Sehun says flatly. “Of _course_ I have to draft a new one. Do you _want_ me to marry someone else other than you?”

“... Me?”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, Sehun picks up his pen and scratches out a couple of lines. “If you don’t want to marry me, you can just say so.”

“It’s not –” Jongin splutters. “It’s not that! There are _laws_ regarding this, Sehun, we can’t break –”

“Laws are not made to be broken, yes, but they can be changed. Jongin, I’m not suggesting we get married right this second. I do have more important things to focus on – after all, I’ve only been King for two months. But in the future, when everything’s more stable. If you want, of course. I’ve already asked your father for permission, anyway.”

Jongin feels like a fish out of water. He probably looks like one too, with how wide his eyes are and how his lips have been trying to form words for the last minute or so.

“I want,” he ends up saying, sounding very much like a lovesick teenager. _For goodness sakes,_ he chides himself, _you’re almost twenty-five, get a grip on yourself!_ “I do. I want to spend the rest of my life with you as someone other than your retainer.”

“You can just say it, you know,” Sehun says, eyes twinkling. “Say the word ‘husband’, Jongin.”

The blush that spreads across his cheeks is mortifying. Sehun grins and looks at him expectantly. “Well?”

“I… I want to spend the rest of my life with you as your husband.”

The joy that flickers into life in Sehun’s face is worth the embarrassment, Jongin thinks. He leans across the desk and kisses his King sweetly, smiling at the pleased hum that escapes Sehun’s throat.

“I love you,” Sehun says, pressing the words into Jongin’s lips.

Yeah, it’s definitely worth the embarrassment.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed.
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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